


On Wednesdays, We Smash The Patriarchy

by noodlerdoodler



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Asexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, Lesbian Character, Phase Four (Gorillaz)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-10-29 04:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10846920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler
Summary: Noodle decides not to rejoin Gorillaz and instead start a new life away from the band. She ends up sharing a flat with Paula Cracker, a bitter woman with nothing to lose. And when Cyborg Noodle shows up out of the blue, angry at Murdoc, what are they to do but start an all-girl band that'll rival Gorillaz?





	1. Noodle

**Author's Note:**

> Some things are slightly different... Most supernatural elements have been removed and Noodle's past is different. That's about it, though!

Today is the day that her life begins. 

Arguably, it could be said that the day her life began was when she was born or when she first became aware of her surroundings or when she was adopted by three strange men who found her living in a FedEx box by the side of the road. But Noodle prefers to think of this as the day her life begins for the second time around. This is her new start. This is her time to strike out and be independent. And although she will miss her family, yes, she's excited to see what the world has to offer that they haven't shown her yet. 

"Is this a nice part of the city?" Noodle leans forward to ask the grumpy man driving the taxi cab. 

He laughs, throatily and unkindly. "If you like people pissing on your doorstep, love." 

She sits back in her seat, discouraged to continue the conversation. 

So far, the ride to her new flat (well, it's not really hers) has been far from pleasant. The man driving the taxi is prone to spewing casual racism at other drivers and throwing petty comments in her direction. If Noodle wasn't so set on staying out of trouble for once, she would have kicked his ass to the curb by now and stolen his cab. But she needed to make this new start work. Instead, she just stares out of the window at the identical grey buildings passing by. 

Every so often, there is a flash of bright graffiti on the walls that would catch her eye. She's lived in Essex most of her life but only been on visits to London before. Her band mates used to bring her up here to perform on stage and play to huge crowds. She can remember sitting in the back of the car, half-asleep, with her face pressed into Russel's side as they ventured into the city early in the morning. They messed around, sightseeing during the day, with 2-D as their rubbish tour guide. And then, there was the music. God, she'd loved playing live music. 

"Do you know if there's any live music around here?" Noodle asks, patting her guitar case fondly.

The taxi driver doesn't even dignify her with a response, snorting and shaking his fist out of the window at another car. She gives up trying to make conversation and just fiddles with her phone, trying to work out if they are nearly there. Eventually, the taxi pulls to a stop outside a dismal looking building that looks even more run-down than the surrounding ones, (which was quite a feat). She peers out of the window and hoped it would be a little cleaner, a little less grey, on the inside. 

"That's twenty-five fifty." The driver said and she hands over the money.

She smiled politely. "Have a nice day." 

Noodle steps out of the taxi cab and lowers her suitcase to the ground, propping it up as she considers the directions saved on her phone. She lowers her avante-garde bicoloured glasses to peer up at the building curiously. Flat after flat are stacked on top of each other, rectangular windows lined up like little soldiers, and she wonders how she's supposed to find the right one. She realises that the woman who put up the ad didn't even say which number it was. Picking up her suitcase and her guitar case, she approaches the door tentatively. 

There's a line of buttons, like doorbells, and Noodle clicks the top one. 

"Hello?" A sweet voice greets. 

"Paula Cracker?" Noodle asks, hopefully. 

A pause. "She's 3B. Are you sure she's the one you're after?" 

"Yes! I'm inquiring about the spare room." Noodle chirps, "Nice talking to you!" 

The intercom crackles off and Noodle clicks the button for 3B instead. 

A much less sweet voice answers. "Listen, if you're selling, I'm not buying." 

"I'm here about the spare room. I know it's short notice but-"

"Let me put some trousers on and I'll come down." Paula Cracker tells her, via the intercom. 

She leaves Noodle to stand there on the doorstep, clutching her belongings, for a full ten minutes before she pulls open the door and makes an appearance. Upon first seeing Paula Cracker, Noodle made some observations and assumptions about her. Now, making assumptions about people you hardly know rarely turn out to be accurate once you actually get to know them. But, bizarrely, in this initial meeting, Noodle was almost entirely correct with her assumptions. As she'd find out later on after she'd been living with Paula a while. 

Noodle observes that her potential flatmate is a much older woman. Whereas Noodle is slowly getting close to thirty, Paula looks like she might be a lot closer to forty. The roots of her hair have began to show after a badly-done dye job, revealing that Paula's real hair colour is actually more of a brown than a black. She has put on trousers, like she said she would, but she's not wearing a shirt. Instead, she's standing in the doorway of a flat in London in a black bra over her mostly flat chest. A cigarette hangs lit from her lower lip and there's a semi-curious look in her dull eyes as she looks Noodle over. She looks exhausted with life. 

"That a guitar?" Paula asks, after they've stood there for a considerably long time looking at each other, "You play?"

Noodle nods. "Ever since I was ten. It's one of my passions." 

"Cool." Paula says, in a mostly bored tone, "You a lesbo?"

The question completely throws Noodle for a moment. Because while she, in fact, is a lesbian and only recently had time to discover this, she isn't sure how Paula managed to work it out. Her confusion must show on her face because Paula lets out a dusty laugh.

"I can spot one a mile away, love." The older woman assures her, "Don't be coming onto me now. I'm too old for flings with kids like you anymore. Guess that means you're a man-hater, huh? Isn't that what those young lesbos are into nowadays?" 

"What?" Noodle is puzzled, "No- no, I'm not a misandrist. I have no problem with men." 

She wants to say that she strives for equality between men and women, which is the truth, but the words catch in her throat. Paula Cracker doesn't seem like the type of person to appreciate those kinds of morals. She seems bitter and resentful. The aura radiating from her is one of general discontent. So, Noodle sucks it up and says nothing else. 

"You want to check out the place before you commit?" Paula steps out of the doorway to let her in, "We used to have a lift but it's broken to shit. Some yobs from the local secondary school smashed it up for a laugh." A hint of a grin briefly touches her lips, "Can't be grumpy with them, though. That's exactly the kind of thing I used to get up to." 

The stairs are chilly from a broken window and the floor is covered with tiles, which are weirdly sticky in some places. By the time Noodle realises it's probably old pee or beer on the stairs, she's already halfway up them. The inside of the building is just as drab as the outside but, she thinks yo herself, it's not like she was expecting paradise. In the ad she'd read online, Paula had been simple and blunt. She'd admitted this place was a bit of a shithole. Noodle thinks that gives it character. Besides, it won't be that bad once she's settled. 

Paula doesn't force small talk, leading the way silently, and the smoke from her cigarette drifts backwards. Noodle can feel the nicotine in her mouth and nose, the smell reminding her of the ones that Murdoc liked back home. Maybe they smoke the same brand? That would be a funny coincidence. They reach the top of the stairs. 

"It's not much." Paula unlocks the door, "Already said that in the ad. It's alright. Better than living out on the streets in a cardboard box."

That sentence hits a little close to home and sends a shiver down Noodle's spine. 

Then, Paula pushes the door to the flat open and they both step inside, one after the other. Admittedly, the apartment is a little better than the corridor and the stairs but only by a small amount. It's not cold, at least, and it does look like somebody actually lives here. There are posters of bands and flyers for live music and tattered postcards tacked up on the walls. There are some photos too, though Noodle doesn't look too closely at those. The furniture is what you'd expect; a sofa, a tv, a lamp. There's a haphazard pile of CDs and records. And beside them sits a record player. 

"Bet you've never handled one of these beauties." Paula follows her over to the record player.

Noodle touches it lightly. "I always wanted one. We had a cassette player instead." 

Paula snorts. "Your parents clearly didn't know shit about music."

Noodle stifles a laugh. 

She slips a record out of it's sleeve and puts it on the player. Noodle watches, hypnotised, as she sets the record to play and the sound of Johnny Thunder's popular track "Born To Lose" fills the room. A smile spreads across Noodle's face. 

"You're a fan?" Paula looks surprised, "Wouldn't have guessed." 

She leaves the record playing as she shows Noodle around the rest of the flat. It's clear that Paula isn't a very tidy person as there's clothes and food containers everywhere. Empty bottles are lined up on the kitchen counter like they're in a fairground shooting game. The flat is very small: living room, kitchen, bathroom, two bedrooms. Everything seems functional, though Paula warns her that warm water is inconsistent and that she can't guarantee hot showers. 

"This is where you'll sleep." Paula pushes open a door, "I haven't got a second bed but-"

"It's okay, I've got a futon." Noodle tells her, stepping into the room. 

This room is even emptier than the others, just a small dresser and a flickering lamp pushed into the corner, but she thinks she can fix it up. Noodle puts her suitcase and her guitar case down on the floor, wondering when she'll be able to start unpacking. She turns back to Paula and the woman is leaning against the doorframe, one hand on her hip. She's got the most peculiar expression on her face, squinting as if she's trying to remember something she forgot long ago. When she catches Noodle looking, Paula hides her expression. 

Noodle is puzzled because Paula seems like a more upfront person than a secretive one. But she guesses it's none of her business. 

"Do you mind if I unpack?" Noodle asks, unzipping her suitcase. 

"You're moving in, then?" She says, "I'll see about getting your name put on the lease. You did tell me your name, didn't you?" 

Already, Noodle is unrolling her futon expertly and pushing it towards the centre of the room. She hasn't got many belongings with her. She unpacks her clothes, which are neatly stacked, and pile them up to put in the dresser later. There's a small bag of the few toiletries that she has and a few of her belongings that she's managed to save over the last few years. Most of them are from her trips to Japan save a few things her bandmates have gifted her. There's also a clump of tickets and posters from locations they played but she buries those in her suitcase. This is a fresh start after all. 

Paula's question causes her to look a little embarrassed, her cheeks flushing. When she was adopted at the age of ten, there'd been a lot of debate over what last name to give her. At first, she was Noodle Niccals but Russel hadn't liked the idea of her having a name that could get her into trouble easily. And Murdoc had said that if she couldn't have his last name, she sure as hell wasn't allowed to have Russel's last name. So, in the end, they'd settled that she'd have 2-d's last name. At ten, she thought it was cool so she hadn't argued. Now...

Noodle sighs, "It's Noodle. Noodle Pot." 

Paula stares at her for a second before she starts howling with laughter. She laughs so hard, wheezing and clutching her side, that she nearly topples over. If she hadn't be leaning against the doorframe, she definitely would have fallen on her arse. She wipes tears from her eyes. 

Noodle avoids eye contact and continues picking out some of her best framed photos, standing up to put them on top of the dresser. Most of them are of her and the band. But they're not official promo shots, they're blurry photos taken mostly on cameras or phones. They look happy in them, which is why she likes them. She positions her favourite one of the four of them just after the band started in the middle, (she looks so small in it and the rest of them look so young), and it doesn't occur to her that it might come back to haunt her later. 

"Noodle Pot." Paula snorts, "Bloody hell. Who hates their child that much?" 

"My dumb dads apparently." Noodle laughs, still feeling embarrassed, "They think it's cute." 

Still laughing, Paula disappears from the doorway and walks off. She either doesn't seem to recognise Noodle as the guitarist from Gorillaz or she simply doesn't care. Or at least, that was what Noodle thinks as she watches her walk away. She returns to unpacking her things, which doesn't take too long, and realises that Paula keeps switching the records in the living room. She doesn't mind too much but she hums along contently to the songs she knows, nodding quietly to the ones that she doesn't. When Noodle is done unpacking, she realises that the last record has spun to a stop. And when she goes looking for Paula, she's gone. 

Paula has left her alone in the flat. Noodle guesses that she must be trusted then. 

She calls the shot and orders herself a pizza, unrolling some of the pound notes that she's keeping stashed underneath her futon for emergencies. She thanks the pizza guy politely and settles on the sofa, flicking through TV channels for something to watch. She feels... At peace. She feels content. She doesn't feel like she has to rush into the next thing. She doesn't feel in danger. 

This is what she hopes the rest of her new life will be like.


	2. Paula

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of drinking, smoking, and one weeny mention of homophobia. Thank you for reading! :D

Dusk is beginning to fall outside when Paula gets back from work. She doesn't bother untying her boots, kicking them off and enjoying the thump as they hit the wall. The new girl that moved into her apartment- Noodle Pot, she thinks with a snicker- had brought shoes specifically to wear inside. Slippers. She slips them on when she gets home and pads around the flat in them like a cat. Paula doesn't have anything so fancy. She walks straight through the living room, the hard floor no doubt wearing even more holes into her socks. 

It hasn't been a great day at work. The hours were longer than usual because she had covered someone else's shift too and there really is nothing interesting about working in a call centre. Ringing up and convincing someone to take a survey? No thanks. Paula's glad every time someone swears loudly at her and slams the phone down. She would have done the same. 

She pushes open the sliding door and steps out onto the balcony. Flicking her lighter on, she lights a cigarette and takes a long drag from it. She looks out at the street. 

"Bad day?" Noodle nearly scares the shit out of her. 

Paula spares a glance to where the girl is perched on the edge of the balcony, balancing there with a guitar on her lap. If Noodle loses her balance, there's a fair chance she's going to go pitching over the edge and go splat on the street below. But she doesn't seem worried, swinging het feet forwards and backwards so they hit the metal balcony with a clang. She's thumbing the strings of her guitar thoughtfully, even though it isn't plugged in. 

"You're bloody terrifying, you know that?" Paula takes another drag. 

She's not exaggerating in the slightest. When she put up ads for a roommate, she was expecting some weirdos. There's always a handful of them looking for places to stay because their last roommates got freaked and kicked them out. But Noodle isn't just a weirdo. She owns swords, which she keeps pinned up on the walls, and uses to threaten the kids that throws rocks at their windows. She balances on balconies and perches on window ledges, like some kind of adrenaline freak. Once Paula caught her sliding down the banister in the stairway with a grin on her face. Noodle is proper weird, that's for sure. 

Noodle frowns at her. "What do you mean?"

Paula shrugs and changes the subject. "You know how to play that thing or do you just carry it around for kicks?" 

"I didn't want to bother the neighbours." She strokes the guitar, fondly, "That's why it isn't plugged in, if that's what you mean. I've been waiting for an excuse to play it again. I used... Ah, I used to be in a band. But that's behind me now." 

"I've been in a few bands in my day." Paula says, watching the smoke drifting in the wind, "I used to play a guitar just like that. Switched to bass a while back because a bloke said I wouldn't be able to do it. That was right before he shagged me and kicked me out of his band. What a bastard." 

Her days spent in Gorillaz were a long time ago so she didn't think about them often. But she did delight in telling people that Murdoc Niccals himself was the reason she'd taken up bass guitar. That git thought he was the best in the world and he'd told her so on her last day in Kong Studios. He was trying to seduce her or something- not that he needed to. Stuart had turned out to be a pretty boring shag, so she'd been looking around for new options anyway. Since Murdoc was up for a quickie in the toilets, why not? She'd been longing for something a little more interesting for a few weeks at that point. They didn't expect to get caught.

Anyway, point is that that green-skinned devil had told her with a grin that a bird like herself would never be able to play a bass guitar. She nearly spat in his face just for that. Niccals was clearly either trying to rile her up or didn't know shit about music. After she got kicked out of the band, she switched to playing bass just to spite him. Just to rub it in his face that she could play as well as him, maybe better. It's been a few months since she last picked up a bass but she reckons she could still play it just as well. She glances back at where the bass leans against the wall behind the soda. 

Noodle follows her gaze. "It's got stickers on it." 

"Yeah. What about it?" Paula puffs on her cigarette once more before putting it out. 

"I didn't think you'd be the kind of person that liked stickers." 

After that enlightening conversation, Paula flicked her dead cigarette over the balcony onto the pavement below and headed back into the flat. She gave her bass another second look, considering picking it up. She didn't like to show off too much, especially in front of strangers, but she'd like to show Noodle that she isn't entirely useless. From what she can tell, Noodle is good at almost everything and it's a little... Irritating. Still, the kid's sweet and only means the best. She wonders what a kid like that is doing out here alone with wads of unexplained cash and no family as far as the eye can see. 

Paula does worry that the kid might be hiding from a bad past. But wouldn't that make a pair of them? 

"Would you mind if I plugged in my guitar in?" Noodle sticks her head around the sliding door. 

She waves a hand vaguely. "Do whatever. I'm going out." 

"Where?" Noodle is curious now, stepping inside with her guitar still in her arms. 

"I don't know. A pub. Wherever." Paula grabs a cup of lukewarm tea sitting on the kitchen counter from earlier today and downs it in one, "Probably my usual place. Should be a laugh." 

"Can I come?" Noodle asks, her eyes bright. 

Paula searches through her wardrobe for something low-cut and with a little bit of personality to it. She switches her shirt, pulling her other one off over her head and tossing it aside. She pretends that she doesn't notice Noodle watching her from the doorway with an intrigued look on her face as she unclasps her bra and puts a fresh shirt on. She looks in the mirror and paints her trademark bright red lipstick onto her lips. Noodle comes and sits cross-legged on the bed, watching her retouch her eyeliner and run a hand through her hair. She picks her jacket up from where she threw it over a chair last night and grips it in her left hand. 

Then, she heads for the door, jamming her feet back into her boots on the way. Noodle continues to trail after her, slipping on a pair of simple sneakers, and grabs her by the arm when she tries to leave without her. Paula laughs, mostly joking about leaving the girl behind. Noodle slips on a leather jacket, which looks oddly familiar, and pushes her hair out of the way. Only then does she give the nod that they can leave. 

"Where'd you get the jacket? Looks worn." Paula flicks the shoulder dismissively. 

They're walking down the stairs together, listening to the clack of thick heeled boots against the hard and disgusting floor. 

"It was my dad's." Noodle says, "He gave it to me so I wouldn't forget about him." 

The click-clack-click-clack continues as they cross the room to the door.

"He some kind of punk?" Paula asks, amused. 

"Nah, he's more of a goth than anything." She replies.

They step outside into the cold air- the temperature had been dropping rapidly all afternoon- and Paula crosses her arms across her chest to keep the cold out as best as she can. Noodle just stands there shivering in her boots and waiting for Paula to lead the way. She really doesn't know her way around London, Paula realises, and she can't help but snort. This kid knows nothing about the world she's moving into or her place in it. Even if Noodle is in her twenties, she still doesn't seem like much more than a kid. 

"What are your parents like Paula?" Noodle asks, balancing on the edge of the pavement.

Paula shrugs, noncommittal. "Dead, hopefully." 

It's early evening but as they pass a pair of shifty guys on the street corner, Paula still wraps an arm around Noodle's shoulders protectively. She knows this area well and she knows that it's a complete shithole filled with creeps and losers. Noodle seems oblivious, looking back curiously when Paula tells her to keep her head down. 

She doesn't move her arm until she's pushing Noodle through the door of the pub and instructing her to go and sit at the table in the corner. She asks for two drinks at the bar. 

"That bird one of yours, Paula?" The bartender chuckles, pouring ice into glasses. 

Paula always takes her drinks on the rocks and they know that. 

"She's just a kid I'm babysitting." Paula says, plucking money from her pocket to toss at them playfully, "You sure you still don't want a date, Grey? You sounded jealous or something." 

She's only teasing like she does with most people. Paula doesn't date good guys, girls, or people in general. They're not her style. 

"She's legal, right?" Grey checks, "You don't date teens?"

"She's in her twenties." Paula says, "And she's not my date." 

"Got it, sweetheart." They slide two drinks across the bar to her, "Refills are half price for you. Don't forget that now." 

Paula winks at them before heading to the table. It's the usual crowd of people sitting around, people that she knows vaguely because she sees them at night. Most of them, she's not sure she'd be able to recognise in broad daylight. Noodle is sitting comfortably, chatting with another woman at the table, but she turns to Paula when she arrives and smiles at her. She accepts her drink without question and takes a long drink of it without even asking what's in it. Kid is going to get herself drugged. 

"Hey Paula." A guy wearing too much eyeliner nods to her, "Who's the kid?"

"This here's Noodle Pot." Paula introduces, "She's an innocent. Don't go ruining her, you crooks." 

There's an uproar of laughter around the table. 

Noodle seems to settle in well enough, which means she's either used to pubs or she's good at adapting to new people. She chats away for a while, sipping her drink, before excusing herself to have a smoke outside. At least she has manners. Paula decides to follow her out, partially because she needs a smoke and partially because one of her friend's boyfriend's is starting to get a little handsy under the table. She catches the door as it's falling shut and slips outside. Noodle already has a lit cigarette caught between her fingers, holding it in a classy way that makes her look like a model or a film star. 

They smoke in silence, aside from the music drifting from the club down the street. It's one of those newer clubs, probably for queers if the colours on the front are anything to go by, but the song is an old one. Paula drums her fingers against her knee, trying to place the song. She can't quite remember what it is. But she remembers when she first heard it. 

This is the song that Stuart had been playing the first night after they'd met at a club like that and gone back to his house for a shag. That was before he'd moved into Kong Studios with the green-skinned prick and he was still living at home with his parents- but his parents had been out that night. 

Paula had drunk cheap beer with Stuart and fooled around a little on his bed, surrounded by posters featuring zombies and old magazines. He tasted like cigarettes and smelt like sweat and she couldn't stop running his fingers through his blue hair. He had reached over and clicked his CD player on beside his bed and the song had started playing as his hips had rolled up to meet hers. 

It's been a few years since she's considered that- her first time going all the way with anybody, though she hadn't admitted it to Stuart- so she's surprised how clearly the memory plays in her mind. She looks down the street at the club, stepping away from the pub and onto the pavement to get a better look. It looks like a good time in there. 

"Come along, Pot." Paula says, taking her cigarette between her teeth to free her hands, "You ever been to one of these clubs before?" 

She takes the girl by the hand and begins to lead her up the street. Noodle comes with her like an obedient daughter, bobbing her head to say that she has been to a place like this before. 

"My dads took me to a place like this once for a gig- I mean, to see a gig." Noodle corrects herself too quickly, "I was fourteen. I had my first kiss at a place like this, when my dads weren't looking." 

"You're lucky. Back in my day, you had to kiss a girl in the school toilets and hope she wouldn't tell anyone." They look both ways before dashing across the street, narrowly avoiding a taxi cab passing by. 

"What if she told?" Noodle looks curious. 

"Then, you got the shit kicked out of you behind the school." Paula shudders at the memory. 

The taxi swerves on the road and swears at them, making a rude gesture out of the window. Paula flips them the bird and Noodle yells for them to drive safe. They both laugh. The pair of them don't stray far from each other as they approach the long line outside the club. 

Only then does it occur to Paula that she called the younger girl Pot. 

That was a nickname that she'd given to Stuart back in the day, as he'd had the same last name. What a coincidence that she'd met another Pot nearly thirty years later- the nickname had slipped out without her even noticing. Noodle didn't seem to mind, bouncing on her toes as they waited in line and fiddling to pull her jacket closer around her. The line was moving at a snailish pace and Paula thought about making a fuss so that they could get in quicker but the bouncer didn't look like the kind that would fall for the distressed bird act. 

"Where are you from, Noodle?" She asks. 

"Oh, all over the place, really." Noodle says, as they collectively take a step forward with the rest of the line, "Essex mainly but I was born in Japan, so I've been back and forth a few times." 

"You're bilingual, then?" Paula says. 

"I know a few languages." Noodle replies, modestly, with a smile, "They're easy for me." 

"That's hot." Paula comments; she decides to elaborate when Noodle looks mildly horrified, "I wasn't hitting on you, you pleb. It's a well-known fact that speaking multiple languages is hot. I bet there's a broad in this place that'll snap you up."

"I don't know." Noodle hesitates, "I'm not really dating right now." 

"You don't have to get flipping engaged. Just a one-night stand sort of thing." 

The line drags onwards for another twenty minutes before the door is in sight and Noodle is craning her neck to get a look. She keeps insisting that she doesn't want to push in but something obviously snaps when the bouncer announces they won't be letting anyone else in. 

She squeezes her way through the crowd of disappointed people and speaks so quietly that Paula doesn't catch a word of it. Noodle flashes some ID and gestures for Paula to do the same and then, suddenly, they're in. Paula's not sure what she said but it worked. They slip through the doors and order fancy cocktails at the bar before surveying their surroundings. 

Noodle takes a long sip from her drink before grabbing Paula by the hand and yelling "let's go dance". She might already be a little drunk from before because her eyes are sparkling and her voice is a little slurred but it doesn't stop her from dragging Paula out onto the dance floor. 

"Dance with me." Noodle yells again. 

So Paula does. 

It turns out that Noodle is quite the dancer, really putting her all into it, jumping all over the place and waving her arms. She's careless, carefree. Paula has to learn to dance like that someday- she's still careful and slow, moving her hips up against a lady with a nose piercing. Paula keeps steady eye contact with nose piercing girl, wondering if she's going to get lucky tonight. But then the girl says that she has to leave and disappears into the crowd. Fine, be a spoilsport then. Paula huffs and looks around for Noodle, who she's managed to lost sight of already. 

She figures no biggie, the girl can handle herself, and goes to get her drink refilled. When she comes back, Noodle is dancing right in the middle of the floor and maybe she hasn't realised yet but people have formed a circle around her, watching her dance and clapping their hands. She twirls and jumps and sways with a perfected kind of rhythm, her eyes shut in concentration and her hair flying about wildly. When the song ends, Noodle stops and bows her head as she catches her breath. There's a round of applause and a few wolf whistles from the crowd. She looks up, wipes the sweat from her forehead, and grins. 

Noodle squeezes through the crowd to Paula, chatting excitedly. 

"It's been years since I got a chance to do something like that." She beams, "I forgot how fun it was not to care about things and live in the moment. We have to do this more often." 

Paula takes a swig of her drink. "Night ain't over yet."


	3. Cyborg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for minor character death(s).

Loading... Loading... Loading... Systems back online!

Cyborg stumbles and hits what felt like a smooth metal wall, which makes an awful sound against her metal skin. A sort of clunking sound. There's a creaking noise overhead, like somebody swinging a heavy door open, and she stumbles into the other wall. She nearly knocks the circuits out of her head she collides with it so hard. Not much of "welcome back", if she's honest. 

She doesn't remember when or why her systems shut down. But it was probably something to do with Murdoc- it's nearly always something to do with Murdoc. She's known for a long time that he doesn't really care about her. Maybe he did in the beginning, when he was desperate to see Noodle again and she was as close as he could get. But as soon as he realised that they weren't one and the same, he stopped caring about her. She meant as much to him as 2-D did. Just another tool to use. 

Cyborg always got the impression that she disappointed him. That no matter what she did, she would never be Noodle enough for him. She knew how it felt to be a human child letting down their parents for a moment. But the feeling passed as she stopped caring. 

Now, she has no idea where she is but she knows that Murdoc is behind it somehow. 

She realises that she is on some kind of ship, which is why the whole room seems to be rocking from side to side. There must be some kind of storm outside, causing the boat to sway dramatically back and forth like this. She understands that storms can do such things. Now that she comes to think of it, the boat tossing her around must have been what knocked her back online. She steadies herself and stretches her arms, hearing her joints grind back into place. And then she goes to meet the neighbours. 

"Are you alive?" There's a body lying on the floor in the adjoining room but when she kicks it, it doesn't even flinch. 

It's the body of dead man, crumpled on the floor in a fetal position as if that would save his skin, and he's clutching a gun to his chest. She pulls it from his grip and the phrase "pry it from my cold, dead fingers" comes to mind as she straightens up and inspects the gun. She's used to better; the gun is old but still functional. It's only got a few bullets left in it but it will do. She would have preferred a fully loaded gun. 

As she turns to leave, a clammy hand grabs at her leg. She turns around. 

"Who-?" The man wheezes, apparently still clinging to life. 

"None of your business." Cyborg snaps at him, pointing his own gun back in his face, "Do you know a man called Murdoc Niccals? Around 5' 7", ugly, probably bisexual?" 

The man's expression looks pained. "Niccals... Yeah, I know a guy by that name... Passed him a few years back... Traded us some scrap metal..." 

"Scrap... Metal?" Cyborg hesitates.

Murdoc always joked about selling her as scrap metal but she never thought he would actually do it. Even if she wasn't of sentimental value to him anymore, she was still his body guard. She was his protection. She could do things he wasn't even capable of, which is why he'd built her in first place. But now it seems he has tossed her away. The thought fills her with rage and a small growl escapes her throat. She's going to kill Murdoc when she finds him. 

The man is still shaking on the floor so Cyborg takes pity and fires the gun. He coughs a few times before laying quietly, a little blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt. It's not like he was of any use to her anymore. And that's what to do when things are useless, right? Throw them away?

"Isn't that right, Murdoc?" Cyborg says to herself and she lets out a rusty laugh. 

She steps over the body and the boat suddenly lurches forward, sending her flying towards the stairs. Cyborg crashes into the steps with a clatter and closes her eyelids tightly in programmed pain at the sudden impact. She has the closest thing that could be programmed to be emotions. Her metal body mimics pain. 

Cyborg pushes herself up onto her feet. Then, she grabs the handrails on either sides of the stairs and clambers up the stairs. She clings to the handrails, fighting against the sway of the boat, and more pulls herself up the stairs than anything. At the top of the stairs, there's a hatch-like mechanism, which she punches her way through, and she climbs onto the deck of the boat. 

Nobody seems to notice her, mostly because the crew seem to be in a panic. They don't seem to be prepared for a storm of this scale, it must have taken them by surprise. Idiots. She needs to get out of here as soon as possible and get back to Plastic Beach. No... Not Plastic Beach. That's where they'd run away from. It isn't safe there anymore. Her home isn't safe. She tries to use her GPS to find Murdoc, to find 2-D, but something in her system is damaged and it doesn't work. 

"The cargo's escaping." Somebody yells and a dirty, money-grabbing finger is pointed at her. 

Cargo? Yes, she supposes that's all she is now. Cheap money. Scrap mental. 

Cyborg spots another gun rattling around the deck and scoops it up, strapping it to her back for later. She'll need something for when she gets out of here. For now, she points the stolen gun and begins to fire at the nearest crew members. 

The one who referred to her as cargo goes down first. A bullet pierces his chest, making his gasp and clutch desperately at his shirt, as the fabric turns red and soaks through with blood. Cyborg feels a twisted sense of satisfaction at seeing the person who disrespected her being hurt. She fires another shot into his throat to make sure he's down and turns to the next person, readying her gun. She's definitely more than scrap metal to them now. She's a threat. 

Pirates start falling, one by one, as she takes them out. Click, click, click. 

She doesn't feel anything as she kills them. She doesn't feel the same sense of satisfaction she felt when she took down the first one, feeling nothing but hollow as she removes these obstacles from her path. Scrap metal... No, Murdoc undersold her. She's a killing machine. The silent assassin. Maybe that wasn't the purpose he originally built her for but that's what she's become. Click, click, click. She watches a man crumple to the deck of the boat, choking, and flicks her hair out of her eyes. 

"Stay down." She instructs a cowering pirate, "Try anything and I'll kick your ass." 

The pirate nods, shaking, and rain continues to pound down on her head as Cyborg turns to survey the deck. Most of the crew look prepared to surrender to her now that they've realised that they're dealing with a lot more than "cargo". She could order them to turn this ship around and take her to England, where Niccals will be residing if anywhere. But she's not a fool. She knows that this ship isn't going to make it through a storm like this. The ship is going down but she's sure as hell not going to go down with it. 

Cyborg soon runs out of bullets. The pirates don't know that, of course, or they don't realise because she keeps the gun pointed at them as she ushers them all into a corner of the ship. Her ears are keen as a bat's and she can hear the faint sound of gurgling water beginning to crawl into the lower levels of the ship. She hasn't got long to get out of here before the whole situation turns into Titanic. That's a film that Niccals told her about when he was describing what their band's career after the Plastic Beach album would be. He'd been drunk and crying, maybe unaware of what he was saying. But that's besides the point. 

"I need to get away from this ship." Cyborg announces to the crew, "What's the quickest way out of here?" 

The shivering crew stare at her through the rain before whispering to each other. She waits for an answer but it doesn't come. They just continue whispering to each other, saying words she can't hear over the storm. Cyborg points the gun up into the air and fires a blank to silence them. 

A noise mimicking a growl rips past her teeth. "Answer me." 

"A rowboat! A rowboat!" A pirate cries, her teeth chattering, "There's a rowboat!" 

"That's the only way out of here but you'd have to be mad." The pirate looks fearful. For her? No, for themself. 

"Perfect." Cyborg says. 

Is she mad? Perhaps. She knows what it means in the human sense of the word but she's not sure it can really be applied to her in the same way. After all, she's just a shadow of a human. A badly put together imitation of a human. Human terms don't apply to her in the same way. 

She crosses the ship and spots the rowboat hanging from the side of the ship. It's a small, shabby thing. She'll barely be able to keep it afloat in the water but it's better she gets as close as land as she can rather than being stranded with a sunken boat. After all, she can hear the water beginning to fill the boat up like a tap filling a glass. 

"Lower me into the water." Cyborg commands, as she climbs into the boat and sits on the seat. 

The same pirate who told her she was mad steps forward and sets about lowering the rowboat into the water. Cyborg keeps the gun trained on them the whole time. Now, she just needs to know where she's going. As the boat touches the water, she fiddles with some wires escaping from her head, tweaking them in hopes of fixing her GPS system. 

Loading... Loading... GPS system back online! Error corrected! 

England, she thinks, as she traces the tracking chip implanted in 2-D's skin. She'd put it in there as she was commanded to on the night they'd kidnapped him, so if he'd run away Murdoc would be able to find him again. 2-D hadn't struggled because he was unconscious, not the same way he'd struggled as she'd dragged his half-awake body out to the car earlier. When he'd woken up, he'd hugged her tightly and called her Noodle over and over. She'd felt a little less numb than usual. She'd come to enjoy his company on the island. 

Cyborg likes 2-D, to some degree at least, so seeing his name pop up on the map pleases her. He made it out alive. And she's going to find him. And Niccals too. Though she imagines her reunion with Murdoc won't be as pleasant. 

"It's mid-storm!" One of the pirates yells to her, as they detach the rowboat from the sinking ship, "Miss, that's suicide." 

Cyborg grins, a glint in her eye. "Good thing that I don't have anything to lose."

And she begins to row out into the middle of the storm.


End file.
